Catriona’s Secret

by Madeline Martin

  Geordie’s father had died in his sleep two months prior, an unfittingly kind end for a man who had hurt so many in his life. Geordie inherited the barony, making him the new Baron Strafford. Cat was simply grateful he could find closure in his father’s death, and love in his mother’s affection.

  Isla passed Evelyn to Catriona.

  The child’s weight was almost nothing in her arms. Marin hovered protectively over the babe as Cat drew her new daughter to her chest. Wetness coated Evelyn’s face and slicked down her dark hair, but she didn’t seem to notice as she blinked her squinted blue eyes at Cat, as if even the candlelight was far too bright for her.

  Her face was delicate, so small it was scarcely the size of Cat’s palm. Evelyn moved her mouth and furrowed her brow, testing both out for the first time.

  Cat laughed at the expressions on such a tiny face. It was clear Evelyn had inherited Geordie’s dark hair. The thought sent an unpleasant jarring through her joy. Because the darkness of her hair was not Geordie’s, but Gawain’s. She and Geordie had spoken of their child together so often, it had made Cat feel as though Evelyn as truly their daughter.

  But then, her own father loved Leila as his own when it was evident she was not. They all had.

  Suddenly, Cat did not care who had given her baby such lovely dark hair, only that Geordie would raise Evelyn as her father had Leila, and that they would grow to be a family of love and happiness together.

  “She’s beautiful,” Dowager Lady Strafford whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

  There was a pressure at Cat’s lower stomach, but she was so enthralled by the precious face gazing up at her, she scarcely noticed what more went on at the foot of the bed.

  Marin smoothed Cat’s hair. “You’ve done so well, sweet Cat. You will be a wonderful mother. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I was afraid to tell you initially.” Cat’s cheeks flooded with shame. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Marin smiled and brushed the back of her finger delicately over Evelyn’s round cheek. “My heart is stronger than my barren womb. I love all of you far too much to ever begrudge your happiness.”

  “And all good things come to those who are patient.” Leila set a steaming mug of tea on the table. Cat had been so consumed by Evelyn’s small face that she hadn’t heard Leila come in.

  Marin kept her face impassive, but Cat’s heart fluttered with hope. Leila was careful not to speak of her visions for fear of how they might be misinterpreted, or how it might impact the future. Cat hoped this truly was a vision she’d had and not a simple statement of encouragement.

  She hugged Evelyn to her chest and prayed that Marin would experience the same beautiful joy of having a child. While Cat could not have her own mother at her side for Evelyn’s birth, she had Marin, who had always served as their mother in the years following Lady Werrick’s death.

  And Cat had Geordie’s mother, who loved Cat as completely as any mother ever loved a child. Lady Strafford bent over and cooed something at Evelyn, who screwed up her lips in reply, much to the entertainment of all in the room.

  “Now may I come in?” Geordie asked from the other side of the door. “I assure you, I am trying desperately to be patient, but…”

  Leila smiled. “I suppose we ought to let him in.” She lifted her brows at Isla, who nodded her consent.

  Lady Strafford and Marin departed the room as Geordie entered. He paused at the entrance, his gaze locked on Evelyn.

  “We have a girl.” Cat’s heart glowed with pride at their perfect babe.

  “Evelyn.” He said their daughter’s name with a catch to his voice and came closer. He knelt by the bed. “Oh, Cat, she’s perfect.”

  Cat smiled to watch the joy play over his features as he gently extended one finger to caress Evelyn’s cheek.

  “Would you like to hold her?” Cat asked.

  “Aye.” He hesitated before rising to standing. “But she is so small, I worry that—”

  “You won’t hurt her.” Cat shifted the delicate bundle into Geordie’s strong arms.

  Those massive arms and hands that had slain many men, that had saved the king, turned the tide of battle, kept all of England safe—they now carefully cradled their daughter with all the gentleness in the world. Geordie drew in a soft breath and his eyes shone with happiness as he stared down at Evelyn. “You’ve done well bringing such a lovely daughter into this world. Thank you for this gift.” He slowly lowered into the chair beside Cat. “Thank you for this life.”

  Cat was exhausted and her body still ached from childbirth, but she wouldn’t trade anything to be anywhere else at that moment. Not as she watched her husband gaze at their daughter. Their whole lives stretched ahead of them like chapters in a book yet to be written.

  “It is a good life,” Cat said with the entirety of her heart. For truly it was.

  Epilogue

  November 1348

  Easton Castle

  * * *

  Cat smiled as she watched her children play. Evelyn, now seven, was a tall beauty with curling brown hair and large blue eyes. She shepherded over her younger brother, Eversham, with such care that Cat was reminded of Marin.

  Eversham, however, was at the unruly age of three and wanted none of it unless he was hungry or injured and Cat was not about. But Cat was there now, and he turned his brown eyes on her with the full force of his charm. “Mama, may we play outside?”

  Lady Strafford stiffened. Cat put her palm to her mother-in-law’s hand to set her at ease.

  “Mayhap later.” Cat pulled him into her arms and kissed his sweaty blond hair. He struggled against her affections before wriggling down and hopping onto a wooden pony Ella had purchased after he was born.

  “You’ve mussed your hair,” Evelyn chided gently and smoothed down Eversham’s tresses as he rocked back and forth on his toy.

  He waved her away with one dimpled hand. “Mama did it with her kisses.”

  Cat and Lady Strafford both chuckled at the complaint. Eversham was an affectionate child, always eager to snuggle into a waiting lap and endure a multitude of kisses. Unless he was at play. Then, he wanted nothing more than to be wild and unfettered.

  Which drove Evelyn to distraction—her life was one of peace and order.

  Cat wished she could let them outside. She knew it would be best for Eversham, especially. The boy needed to run about, to climb trees and throw rocks into streams. But it was far too dangerous.

  They had been lucky thus far that the great pestilence had not reached Easton Castle. In truth, it had been more than luck. Leila had sent them a missive the year prior, warning them of great death on the horizon. First there would be great rains, which there had been. Then the cattle would die in great numbers, which they had. Lastly, illness would sweep through the land, killing men and women and children without mercy.

  It had.

  They were safe here thus far, but Cat would not take any chances. It took only one person with the contagion to wander onto their land, to get too close.

  Her heart nearly seized in fear at the whisper of an idea of losing either one of her precious children. Or any of those in her household for that matter. These were trying times indeed.

  The door to the nursery opened and Geordie stepped in. Cat leapt to her feet and threw her arms around her husband. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Cat whispered into his ear.

  Geordie said nothing. He released her and gently cupped her jaw in his large, callused palm. Though he smiled at her, the joy did not touch his eyes.

  A knot of ice tightened in Cat’s lower stomach.

  “How bad is it?” Lady Strafford asked as she embraced her son to bid him welcome on his return home.

  He had been out of the keep for nearly a fortnight as he traveled to court at the king’s command. Evelyn came forward, her expression uncertain in light of the dampened mood.

  She glanced up at Geordie and beamed, unable to quell her happiness as she wrapped her arms around h
im. “Welcome home, Papa. I missed you.”

  Geordie’s somber expression blossomed into a smile. “I’ve missed you and your brother terribly.” He lifted her into the air and pulled her in for a great hug. “Have you been good while I’ve been gone?”

  Evelyn’s mouth fell open. “Of course!”

  He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “I figured as much. And your brother?”

  Evelyn sighed like a strained mother and regarded Eversham over her shoulder. The boy rocked back and forth with fervor upon his pony.

  “It is like that, then.” Geordie laughed.

  Evelyn gave a shrug just as Eversham let out a hoarse roar akin to a battle cry, eliciting a laugh from them all.

  Geordie reached into his bag and withdrew a small red-bound leather book. “The king wanted you to have this, knowing how much you love to read.”

  Cat cast Geordie a nervous glance. Anything could carry contagion. Even a book gifted by the king.

  Evelyn’s eyes lit up. She immediately pulled it from Geordie’s hands and went to the window bench to read.

  “It came from the king’s own hands to mine and touched nothing else in between,” Geordie said in a low whisper, as though reading Cat’s thoughts.

  Of course, he would have been careful. He doted on Evelyn with the same loving affection as Cat’s own father always had with her and all her sisters.

  Cat shook her head at her own fears. “It is just that everything is so frightening now,” she whispered.

  Geordie took her hand. “We must speak a moment.” He regarded his mother in silent question.

  Dowager Lady Strafford tilted her head in understanding. “I’ll stay with these beautiful children. Go on and speak.”

  Geordie cast his mother a grateful look and pulled Cat from the room.

  Cat’s heart clenched, anticipating the news he would give her. About the land, about its people, about the state of the world they lived in.

  She followed with heavy trepidation. “Is it as bad as I thought?”

  Geordie’s jaw clenched. “Aye. We were prudent to heed Leila’s warning. Populated areas have higher levels of sickness. People are dying and their grief is making them mad. Cat, they…”

  His hesitation sent a prickle of alarm down her spine. “What is it?”

  “They are persecuting healers in some areas, thinking them witches who have brought on the plague.”

  The fear teasing at Cat’s mind took hold with a solid grip.

  “Leila,” Cat whispered.

  Geordie nodded. “We must warn her, so she is prepared. If she spoke of the pestilence to the people of Werrick Castle, she will no doubt be seen as a witch.”

  Cat clasped her free hand over her heart. Of course, Leila would have mentioned the coming pestilence at Werrick Castle. She would have wanted to see her friends safe.

  It was impossible not to think of those at Werrick Castle now. Cat’s father, Leila, Nan who had found happiness with the butcher she’d once so despised, Freya and Peter who were now on their fifth year of marriage. Cat had heard Isla was now rumored to be 400 years old and still delighted in tormenting Bernard, who had only become twitchier as time wore on.

  Aye, Leila would have sought to protect them, just as any of the sisters would.

  “Thanks be to God Leila never leaves Werrick Castle,” Cat whispered. “I hope it will ensure her safety.”

  Geordie pulled Cat into his arms, knowing as he always seemed to that she needed his comfort, his wonderful strength. “We will do everything we can to help keep her safe. All will be well.”

  Cat nodded against his powerful chest, the tension already draining from her shoulders. For together they were always stronger and could face any challenge life set in their path, even the great pestilence.

  “I love you,” she whispered, but their hearts were so in harmony that he heard her quiet words.

  “As I love you.” Geordie lifted her face up and smiled down at her. “My beautiful baroness, mother of my children.”

  Cat pressed her lips to his, overcome with gratitude to find a life with the man she’d thought lost to her too many times. Even in these trying days, they would make it through, together, and come out stronger in the end. Without hesitation, without fear, without secrets; for love transcended everything and they had love aplenty.

  * * *

  * * *

  Thank you for reading CATRIONA’S SECRET! I read all of my reviews and would love to know how you enjoyed the story, so please do leave a review.

  * * *

  Next, check out Leila’s story and the exciting series conclusion in LEILA’S LEGACY !

  Purchase LEILA’S LEGACY

  LEILA’S LEGACY

  Lady Leila Barrington has always known she was different from her sisters, not only in appearance, but also due to the visions she’s been plagued with since childhood.

  When her prediction of the great pestilence comes to fruition and the people are looking for someone to blame, she knows she will finally meet the Lion – the man who is destined to kill her, and who she is fated to love.

  ***Keep reading for a first chapter preview of LEILA’S LEGACY***

  * * *

  To stay up to date on all my new releases and get your FREE copy of The Highlander’s Challenge, please sign up for my newsletter:

  Sign up for Madeline Martin’s newsletter

  * * *

  LEILA’S LEGACY

  Chapter 1 Preview

  * * *

  January 1349

  Brampton, England

  * * *

  The great pestilence had come.

  Lady Leila Barrington, youngest daughter to the Earl of Werrick, had seen it in her visions for as long as she could remember. Lingering on the horizon like a patient beast stalking its prey, growing hungrier, stronger, and more desperate.

  She’d told no one of the things she’d seen in her mind. Not when the visions were so horrible, not when she’d hoped so fervently that time might cause them to change.

  But the future had not altered. It had pressed upon Leila throughout her life until the visions came daily, and she knew the beast was about to pounce upon the unsuspecting people of Christendom.

  And it did.

  Leila tied the handkerchief filled with herbs around her face. The sage, lavender and mint crinkled as she secured the handkerchief, the dried bits of leaves and stems poking at her cheeks. Once the combination of such scents had reminded her of all things clean; now, the scent recalled illness and death. Isla, the healer at Werrick Castle, had wanted to soak it all in heifer’s piss for good measure, but Leila had refused.

  The older woman waited for her presently by the entrance to the castle with a similar handkerchief tied to her withered face, and a basket slung over either arm. She handed one to Leila as she approached, her sharp amber eyes narrowing from over the top of her handkerchief.

  “Are ye certain ye want to venture out today?” Isla asked.

  It was the same question she asked every day.

  Leila took the basket and replied as she always did. “There are people in need.”

  The basket tipped precariously, but Leila quickly steadied it. The flagon of water weighted one side more heavily, but it was by far the most important of the items they carried with them. There was no cure for the great pestilence. Through all of Isla’s and Leila’s knowledge of healing, neither had found a way to cure the illness.

  No one had.

  Outside of those people suffering a random injury or non-pestilence illness, Isla and Leila had become little more than easers of suffering.

  “Ye’re lady of the castle.” Even as she offered the protest, Isla turned toward the doorway to lead the way to the village.

  “All the more reason to be there for my people.” Leila followed her outside where the otherwise sunny sky was hazy with brown gray smoke. It stung at her eyes and its acrid odor penetrated the sweetness of the herbs about her face. Ash floated in the
air like light snow and sifted silently to the ground.

  The ground was sodden, the dirt churned into a sludge that was as slippery as it was thick. Even with conditions such as these, they left the horses safe in their stalls. It was more than the fear of them falling ill that encouraged the ladies to keep them stabled. It was the very real concern that a villager so eager to flee the grasp of the pestilence would steal their lord’s horse and leave their family behind.

  And a large number of people did leave their families. Wives were abandoned by husbands, aging parents abandoned by their grown children, mothers fled their sick children. The latter was the most difficult to happen upon. Dirty-faced children whose eyes were bright with fever, screaming in pain and fear, with no one to aid them. Those were the ones that most broke Leila’s heart.

  Such was the terror of the great pestilence that it overtook even a mother’s love for her children. Extreme measures of escape, however, had been for naught, for the great mortality lay its shroud over the whole of Christendom. There was no escape.

  They neared the village with smoke rising from within where pyres had been lit to burn the dead and their belongings.

  “I dinna like ye doing this,” Isla muttered from beneath her mask of herbs.

  Many did not like Leila going out into the danger of the pestilence to aid others. They did not understand what it meant to her, how it helped heal the hurt within.

  For all of her life, she had felt very much outside her family. It was not only her looks that set her apart from her sisters, her dark hair or the narrowness of her face. The sense of not belonging even went beyond her visions.

  She had never felt as though she was worthy of the love her family offered. How could she, when she knew the truth? She was not a child of Lord Werrick’s loins, but that of a marauding Graham reiver. The attack had nearly killed Lady Werrick, but it was Leila’s birth that had finally snuffed out her life.